


Earl Grey

by OreoAmbitions



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst and Fluff and Smut, But with a happy ending, F/F, I would never do wrong by supercorp I swear, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Protective Alex Danvers, Terminal Illnesses, This is a wild ride, nia and lena work together, protectiva nia nal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OreoAmbitions/pseuds/OreoAmbitions
Summary: Lena's carefully regimented morning routine is interrupted when her favorite coffee shop hires a charming new barista. She can't get enough of Kara - or, to her surprise, Kara's expertly prepared coffee. But the closer the two of them become, the more determined Kara's sister is to keep them apart, and when Nia begins to hint at a dark Danvers family secret kept even from Kara herself, Lena begins to wonder just what she's gotten herself into.
Relationships: Kara Danvers & Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 24
Kudos: 136





	Earl Grey

Lena Luthor is not a coffee person.

Oh, she pretended for a while. There were bitter espressos shared with Lex in his office before everything went to hell. There were dessert coffees discreetly disposed of at family functions. There were cups upon endless cups choked down at university in some sort of misguided attempt to squeeze a little bit more productivity out of the day, and perhaps with it some level of social acceptance from her peers. See? I, too, consume the bitter zippy bean water. I am not so unlike you.

But in the end, Lena was unlike them. Unlike the other university students, yes, but also unlike the Luthors and their friends. And if that made her feel a little more than a little alone in the world, it also gave her a sense of freedom. So it was that when she dropped out of college, Lena gave up on pretending to like coffee. She gave up on pretending even to tolerate it. She was going to drink tea, and nobody was going to give her any shit, and that was the end of it.

It took a while for that to really be true. But being the Luthor heir and the CEO of L-Corp comes with some perks, and among them is the right to take your caffeine in whatever the hell form you'd like without any kind of back talk from your peers. Not that Lena is unaware that this is at least partly due to the fact that she no longer has peers in any real sense, but she takes her social victories when and where she can get them. It has been a few years now since anyone has questioned her anti-coffee attitude, and that's really the important thing.

The one problem, the one fatal flaw in an otherwise flawlessly coffee-free lifestyle, is that Lena remains a sucker for a cozy coffee shop.

Which is where Mountainside comes in. Lena is absolutely confident that she could order an intern to learn to brew tea the way that she likes it, but she's lucky enough to have National City's most charming coffee shop just a short walk from L-Corp, and she will be damned if she is going to waste it. The daily trip down the street and around the corner for her favorite pick me up has become the most treasured part of Lena's day.

In truth, it has become almost a ritual. Like clockwork, exactly two and a half hours after arriving at the office, Lena untangles herself from whatever it is she's in the middle of handling and announces to her assistant, Jess, that she is going to take a walk. She lingers in the lobby only long enough for security to acknowledge her departure, and then she is out the door and into the city with a sense of relief. It can't be said that Lena finds peace on the streets of National City, because there is none to be found. It's a bustling place, all noise and grit and heat, but it's alive and messy and there is something in the chaos that quiets Lena's thoughts for a time, and that in and of itself is worth something.

It takes four and a half minutes exactly to walk to Mountainside Cafe. Once inside, Lena waits in line for a minute or maybe two before she places her order, or rather, pays for it, because the staff have known it by heart for months now. And then it's precisely a four minute and fifteen second steep time of earl grey with just a touch of lavender, finished with a splash of milk: not so much as to cover the flavor and carefully steamed so as not to cool the tea prematurely. Yes, Lena could probably order an intern to make her a cup of earl grey in the office, but Mountainside turns it into a work of art.

She invariably lingers a few extra minutes by the window, watching people come and go on the street. Mountainside is a soft place, all warm golden light and low music, and Lena always wants to stay a little longer, please, just a little longer. She can imagine passing hours upon hours in that window, letting evening fall over her, a book open on the table, a notepad, a hot cup of tea. But there is work to be done. And so she makes the walk back to L-Corp, four and a half minutes exactly, and buries herself in the next task with only minimal reluctance.

So it has been for almost a year now, and so it continues to be, until the day Lena encounters Mountainside's newest barista.

It's a Tuesday in early January. National City doesn't really have winter in the way that other places do, but Lena is determined to take advantage of the drizzle and the mild chill. It is, after all, the closest she is ever going to get to a real sweater season. When the time comes for her mid-morning walk to Mountainside, she wraps herself in her best cable knit and her coziest scarf and steps out of her building into the prelude to what passes for a winter storm in a place like this.

It's glorious. She allows her four and a half minute walk to take something closer to five, stopping to feel the wind rushing in from behind her to sting her cheeks and pluck at her hair. And then she is at Mountainside breathing in the warmth and the smell of wood and coffee and fresh pastries. The line is a little longer than usual, and moving a little more slowly than Lena has become accustomed to, but on a day like today she doesn't particularly mind. On a day like today, she would give almost anything to stretch her outing until it's as long as a trip to fetch a cup of tea can reasonably be.

A ghost of a smile crosses her face at the thought of the scandal it would cause if she chose simply not to return to her workday. The meetings she would miss, phone calls that would have to be rescheduled, all for the simple pleasure of a winter's afternoon. Well, and that can never happen, but it's a nice thought. And it is in that moment, with that smile flickering across her lips, that she first sees Kara.

There are still two people in line ahead of Lena when she locks eyes with the woman standing behind the register and feels the breath tumble out of her lungs. And it's ridiculous, illogical, irrational, but Lena's first unbidden thought is that blondes are not her type. Well, neither are baristas, and yet Lena can't deny the rush of warmth in her chest as the woman behind the register, already smiling politely for the gentleman whose order she's taking, sees Lena and gives her at once an altogether different kind of smile. It is a smile that says _I see you, I know you, I'm glad you're here_. And it's ridiculous, illogical, irrational, and yet Lena can't help feeling that something has passed between them in that lingering moment of eye contact.

Of course, it's nothing. But she lets her eyes linger a moment longer after the barista has returned her attention to her guest, taking in the checkered shirt, the soft grey cardigan, plain glasses, long tumbling blonde hair, the gentle line of her jaw, the soft curve of her hip. Lena feels almost as though she's looking at someone who has stepped straight out of a fairy tale.

So perhaps she can be forgiven for what happens next.

Because when Lena gets to the front of the line, she forgets all about earl grey, and lavender, and warm milk. For the space of a breath she forgets about everything that isn't the pair of deep blue eyes into which she thinks she may have somehow fallen. And then the woman behind the register smiles that knowing smile, and Lena is lost.

"Good morning," the barista says. "May I have your name for the order?"

Lena stares at her mouth for a heartbeat, and it's one heartbeat too many, and she's embarrassed. She feels the blush come into her cheeks but manages miraculously to keep a straight face. And then, despite almost a year of walking into this coffee shop every weekday without exception to order an earl grey with a touch of lavender and splash of warm milk for _Miss Luthor_ , the name that comes out of her mouth is "Lena. Just Lena."

The barista's smile deepens. "Would you like a pour over today, Just Lena?"

Lena Luthor is a successful businesswoman. In fact, she is one of the most successful businesswomen in the world. She is an expert when it comes to recognizing the tone of a person who is saying one thing when they mean another, and to her credit there is some part of her that recognizes such a tone now and tries to speak up. But the lion's share of Lena Luthor is occupied by blue eyes, and slightly crooked glasses, and a bright smile, and the strange buzzing sensation that seems to have taken up residence in her chest. And so she says, "Yes, that would be lovely."

She doesn't notice the manager, Lexa, who is readying Lena's usual earl grey in the background, and whose jaw drops ever so slightly in surprise. She does notice the bemused frown that flickers across the barista's face.

"Alright then." A pause. A drum of the fingers on the counter. "It's on us today."

"Oh!" Lena raises her eyebrows. "You really don't have to do that..." She trails off when she realizes that she has just inadvertently ordered a cup of coffee.

The barista must assume that Lena is trailing off because she has just realized she doesn't know her name. She says, "It's Kara." And to Lena's surprise, they shake hands. It should seem strangely formal, but Kara is fixing Lena with that smile, and all Lena can think about is how soft, and warm, and unexpectedly _strong_ Kara's hand is in hers.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Kara."

"Likewise. I'll get that drink started for you."

Lena stands in front of the register for a few seconds longer than is socially acceptable, and moves around to the counter only when the young lady behind her clears her throat. She feels a blush creep into her cheeks for the second time in a single day and wonders if perhaps hell has frozen over somewhere beneath her feet. Kara and Lexa are having a hushed and urgent conference next to the sink, which resolves itself when Kara throws her hands up in the universal gesture for "Don't ask me, dude; I just work here," and Lexa turns back towards the register just in time to catch Lena watching.

"Are you okay?" She mouths in Lena's direction, which Lena figures is as close as Lexa can professionally get to saying "Luthor, what the fuck?"

Lena offers an apologetic shrug.

A pour over takes somewhat longer to prepare than a cup of tea, and Lena finds herself fiddling excessively with her phone while she waits. It's a decidedly un-Luthorlike thing to do, but it gives her hands the purpose they suddenly so desperately need. She can't decide whether to watch Kara work, or whether to pointedly not watch; whether she should make sure to look at Kara at least as frequently as would be considered normal, or whether looking at Kara might come off as impatience when in fact she wants this painfully uncomfortable moment to last forever. Lena cannot decide anything at all. So she turns her phone over and over in her hands until Kara leans in over the counter.

"Warm milk, right? No sugar?"

Lena hesitates, and then nods. Honestly she can't remember whether she was ever of the opinion that sugar did anything to improve a cup of coffee. Milk is definitely a necessity.

Kara works quickly and purposefully, her eyes on her task, but now that she's near to Lena she talks all the while. "I'm going to steam the milk for you while the coffee finishes percolating, so give me just one moment."

Lena's hands finally still as she watches Kara's. She is definitely not thinking about the warmth of those hands, the strength, the deftness of those fingers, the hundred other ways Kara might put them to use. She is absolutely not wondering whether Kara might have callouses that Lena doesn't know about. Her eyes have certainly not caught on the graceful line of Kara's wrist, the definition of the tendon, the soft blue of the vein just visible under the skin.

"This is technically a cafe au lait," Kara says as she pours, "So now you'll know what it's called if you ever want to order one again."

 _I won't_ , Lena thinks to herself, but the words don't come to her lips.

"And I won't bore you with the details of the roast," Kara continues, "But I think you'll like this one." She glances up from what she's doing to meet Lena's eyes with a curious, searching expression. "You can only get it from us; it's one of our signature blends. And of course if you don't like it, I can always make you something else..."

Lena's fingers brush Kara's as she takes the cup, and she knows in that moment that if she doesn't like it she is going to take that secret with her to the grave.

"I'm sure it's perfect," she assures Kara. She prepares herself to keep a straight face, come what may. Deception, after all, is what Luthors do better than anyone. Kara is going to see her try this drink and, if not love it, at least not hate it. And then Lena is going to walk out that door, find some way to quietly get rid of it gracefully, and never return to Mountainside again lest she die of embarrassment. She is going to have to resign herself to a life of tea bags and cold half and half.

Lena lifts the cup to her lips, makes brief eye contact with Kara, and takes a sip. And to her absolute amazement, she does love it. It's nutty and complex, comforting, with an aftertaste almost like dark chocolate. The intention to keep a straight face flies out the window as Lena's eyebrows rise up of their own accord.

"You like it," Kara says with a satisfied smirk. "I knew it."

And without another word, she gives the counter a quick once over with her towel and returns to the register.

///

It rains on Wednesday. Not the drizzle that so often passes for rain in National City, but an honest to God downpour that rumbles into the city before first light and shows no sign of passing through. Jess says something about having Lena's morning tea delivered, which Lena pretends not to have heard. She stands at the office window watching the sky fall and imagines she can hear the pattering of rain drops across the roofs of the cars far below.

"I'm going out," she announces.

Jess raises both eyebrows. "Shall I call you a car?"

"I'll walk," Lena says, waving a dismissive hand. She tucks her laptop into her bag and her umbrella under her arm. "I'll be a while; hold my calls."

"For how long?"

Lena, halfway out the door, looks back with a bemused smile. "Until I get back. I'm not going to venture out in this weather just to turn right back around again."

If Jess has something practical to say in reply - and Lena has known her long enough to know that she almost certainly does - Lena is gone before she gets a chance to express it. She moves briskly through the lobby with a nod to security, and then she steps out onto the sidewalk and takes a deep breath. There are things about home that Lena has learned not to miss so much, but the smell of rain is not one of them. She misses the taste of the air before a storm, the howling of the wind, the way the colors of the city run together, water streaking across the windows, the crisp bite of the first morning after it all passes. The near endless summer of National City will never compare.

It's a long moment before Lena begins to walk, and when she does, she is beginning to feel a little guilty about her adventure. Jess was right; tea could easily have been delivered. This is reckless. It's foolish, and irresponsible, and remarkably out of character, but she excuses her own behavior with the thought that there's really no point to being the boss if she can't indulge herself once in a while. She's careful to take her time, to savor the sound of cars hissing through the water in the streets and once, when she is quite sure no one is looking, she even allows herself to splash in a puddle on the side of the road. The four and a half minute walk takes closer to six minutes, and by the time she arrives, there are no regrets on her mind.

Lena steals into Mountainside feeling for all the world like a child sneaking into the wings of the theater. The warmth and the smell of the coffee shop wash over her, and as her eyes seek out Kara working behind the counter with her back to the storefront, she feels something pleasant settle in her chest. It's going to be a good morning.

The line is again a little longer than usual, and the coffee shop a little louder, but Lena doesn't mind. She passes the minutes fiddling with her phone and stealing glances at Kara while she works the espresso machine until Kara abruptly looks up and catches her watching. She meets Lena's gaze with a smile so deep and so bright that it feels almost as though time itself has stuttered, and Lena thinks maybe it would be alright with her if she stood in this line trading glances and smiles with Kara for the rest of her life.

And then she's at the register, and she's lost again in those blue eyes, and Kara is smiling that too warm smile, and it's a moment that means nothing at all, but it's all so much that Lena thinks she has forgotten how to breathe. It takes her a moment to realize that Kara is speaking to her.

"Good morning, Just Lena," she says as she reaches up to adjust her glasses.

Lena fumbles for words and instead of "good morning," or "it's lovely to see you," or "how are you," she lands on "Busy day?"

Kara tilts her head to one side in contemplation as she taps away at the register, then reaches out to accept Lena's card. "Busier than I'd expected. But I guess everyone wants a warm drink on a day like this."

"It is the perfect weather, isn't it?" Lena replies. "Rainy season is the best time of the whole year."

Kara hands her card back. "The best time of the whole year is Christmas, but we can agree to disagree," she says, scrunching up her nose.

They circle around to the counter together, Kara beginning to work, Lena leaning across to watch, their conversation adequate pretense for the lingering of her eyes. "Christmas is a corporate evisceration of a Christian holiday which, to be perfectly frank, was an evisceration of a Pagan holiday in the first place. Double evisceration. It's an abomination."

Kara stares at her with mock horror. "Blasphemy!" And then she laughs. "I know, I know. I just love it. The lights, the music, the spirit of generosity and joy. It's a little piece of magic."

"You actually like Christmas music?"

"You actually like the rain?"

"Oh, I love the rain." And Lena tells her about it while she works, about the summer storms in Metropolis, and the sound of rolling thunder, and the time she got caught sneaking out of fencing lessons to crouch behind the building and listen to the relentless pounding of an afternoon downpour. Kara listens, and her smile deepens. It's only when she passes a cup across to Lena that Lena realizes she doesn't know what's in it.

"I never actually ordered," she muses. Her fingers brush Kara's, but Kara doesn't move to let go of the cup.

"I already know what you want," Kara says, her eyes catching Lena's with a gaze so intense that the hair on the back of Lena's neck stands up. They stand there for a moment, Lena's fingers resting on Kara's, heart suddenly pounding, unable to look away. And then Lexa is summoning Kara to the register, and Lena is standing alone at the counter feeling vaguely disoriented.

Despite the higher than usual patronage, Lena is able to nab a table by the window. No power outlet, but then, that's probably for the best; it puts an effective time limit on her outing, which Jess will no doubt appreciate. She sets up her laptop, her notepad, her favorite pen, and finally takes a sip of the drink Kara has made for her. It's the same as yesterday's, which is precisely what Lena would have asked for if she'd remembered to ask. She indulges in a few extra minutes of idleness, watching the rain streak down the windows, listening to the murmur of conversation all around her.

Lena is able to get a surprising amount of work done, provided she doesn't think too much about the calls she is almost inevitably going to have to catch up on when she gets back to the office. She has time to send emails, to review documents, to consider proposals without interruption, and so she stays even after she's finished her drink. She stays, and she tells herself it's because she's really on a roll with work, but maybe it's also because she likes that she can observe Kara from here, can hear snatches of her voice here and there, can catch the occasional smile when she looks up from her laptop at precisely the right time.

So it is that Lena has been sitting at that table for almost two hours when Kara approaches. She comes balancing two cups and a plated pastry, all of which she finds space for on Lena's crowded table, and then she swings a backpack off of her shoulder and takes the unoccupied chair. She nudges one of the cups towards Lena without comment before rummaging in her backpack for a lumpy sandwich and a moderately large book.

Lena's hands are frozen over the keyboard of her laptop. She stares for a long moment. "What are you doing?"

Kara looks up with an innocent expression. "Taking my lunch break." She beings to unwrap her sandwich, the book already propped open on her lap.

"At my table?"

"Do you want me to leave?"

Lena considers it for approximately half a second. "No. No, stay."

"That's what I thought," Kara says with a smug smile.

Lena returns to her work. Or she tries to. She tries, but Kara's foot is touching her ankle under the table ever so slightly, and Lena can't stop wondering whether Kara is aware of it. She can't stop thinking about those strong hands, about Kara's broad shoulders, about the soft curve of her mouth. Which is ridiculous, because she's just met this girl, because Kara isn't her type, because they might as well be from different worlds, because a thousand becauses. But here they both are.

It's only a few minutes before Lena gives up on working. "What are you reading?"

Kara raises the book so that Lena can see the title: _A Gentleman in Moscow._ But she says nothing, her mouth occupied with her sandwich. Lena purses her lips.

"What's it about?"

Kara considers it for a moment, takes a sip of her coffee, and replies "It's about being human." And then, as though that were on some planet an acceptably informative answer, she goes back to reading. It does cross Lena's mind that maybe Kara doesn't want to be interrupted, that maybe she's the kind of person who likes to read a book in peace, which is really something that Lena, who is definitely the kind of person who likes to read a book in peace, should be able to appreciate and respect. But Kara is, after all, taking up space at her table, distracting her with those beautiful eyes and those long fingers, and it's only fair if Lena wants to strike up a conversation, because honestly she can neither sit still nor keep to herself when Kara is this close to her.

So she says, "That's an odd topic for a story."

Kara peers at her over the top of book with a funny expression. "Aren't all stories about being human, when you think about it?"

"I think all stories are about whatever you like, if you phrase it broadly enough."

Kara shrugs. "It might be broad, but that doesn't mean it isn't true."

Lena can't argue with that, and so, feeling that her feathers have been a little ruffled, she tries again to focus on her work. She fidgets, and she taps her pen restlessly against her notebook, and she gets very little done, but if she's being honest, she doesn't mind. She likes the little sigh that Kara makes sometimes as she reads, the way her brow furrows in concentration, the way she sucks in her bottom lip when she turns the page, and there is a definite feeling of disappointment when the timer on Kara's phone goes off and the barista starts to gather her things.

Kara pauses as she passes Lena, and trails her fingers over her shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Lena feels her cheeks warm even as she keeps a studiously straight face. "You will."

It's a little more than half an hour before Jess begins to insist that there are things at the office which require Lena's actual in-person attention, and she too begins to pack up. Kara ducks out from behind the counter to leave a third drink on her table, which Lena begins to protest - how much coffee does this woman think she needs in a single morning - but Kara shushes her and scoops the pastry she left behind on her lunch break into a bag across which "Just Lena" is scrawled in tidy letters. Lena steps out into the rain. She can't say whether it's the fresh coffee or Kara's parting smile that does it, but she feels warm all the way back to the office.

///

The rain dwindles in the night, and so Thursday dawns damp and grey and generally miserable. Lena has to give herself a stern talking to about the importance of being on time to run her own company, because really, who wants to get out of bed on a day like this? But there is work to be done: the world needs saving, and it isn't going to save itself. If the thought of a warm drink and a warm smile helps to propel her out the door, well, there's no harm in it.

There is a great deal to be done in the office. Lena owes face time to a number of people, some of whom were displaced by her dalliance at Mountainside yesterday. There acquisitions to be planned and strategies to be discussed, operational reviews which must be handled personally and meetings which must be attended. Jess's responsibility is largely making sure that Lena gets from place to place without missing a beat, and today it's no small task.

Two and a half hours come and go and Lena does not leave for Mountainside. A meeting runs long, an interview is hastily rescheduled, and something has gone wrong with the final FDA approval for a device intended to revolutionize the delivery of insulin. It isn't until lunch time that Lena manages to get away, only narrowly dodging another meeting disguised as "lunch with the boys" by suggesting that there are details of L-Corp's upcoming Remembrance Gala to which she simply must attend herself.

"Must be nice to have a woman's touch at the head of L-Corp," Maxwell Lord jokes. "Otherwise, who will make sure the napkins match the canepes?"

Lena wants to stab him with the heel of her shoe.

There really are details of the Remembrance Gala that Lena should be handling, but none of them are nearly so ridiculous as Maxwell's suggestion. And yes, they could be handled by someone else, and if it were any other gala they likely would be. But when it comes to the ten year anniversary of Superman's death there are certain things a Luthor in the public eye must be seen attending to in order to keep up appearances, and the details of the gala are among them.

Not that Lena won't have to be dragged into taking care of it all, probably by Lillian, probably at the last minute. The truth is that Lena still hasn't learned to think of Superman's death without thinking about Lex's, and there is a stubborn, grieving side of her that still whispers that she is allowed to have a hard time with her brother's passing, even if it was a long time ago, even if he was a monster.

She doesn't want to think about those things now. Not about death, or Superman, or the brother she must never be seen to grieve. She steps out into the street under a sky turned an aching blue and tries to think of the bright, bitter cold as an allegory for new beginnings. Remembrance can wait. She doesn't tarry on the walk to Mountainside today, but hurries with her collar turned up against the chill and held closed with one hand. The wind is brisk and biting and Lena is hungry and tired and can't shake Maxwell's mockery from her mind.

Damn them all to hell, every one of them. But not Kara. Never Kara, who looks up as Lena enters the cafe and greets her with a smile and a half raise of the hand, and who shoulders Lexa out of the way without apology when Lena makes it to the front of the line.

"I thought I wasn't going to see you today," Kara says, already ringing in Lena's order without waiting to hear what it is.

"I told you that you would," Lena reminds her.

"Well, things come up, plans change. Busy morning?"

"Difficult morning," Lena replies, handing over her card. For a moment she considers saying more, but then, why should Kara care to hear about the troubles and trivialities of corporate life?

Kara makes a face. "Well difficult mornings are the worst, but it's nothing we can't sort out with a cup of coffee." They circle around to the side, and Kara talks all the while. "At least it's a lovely day! The sun is shining, the birds are... well, shivering probably, because they can't wear sweaters. Anyway, my point is, it could be worse! It could be raining." And then she abruptly straightens up and looks back at Lena with a horrified expression. "Wait, I mean-"

Lena laughs, and it's been so long since anyone has drawn laughter out of her - real laughter, not the obligatory dry chuckle of feigned amusement she's long since mastered for business use - that she nearly startles herself. Embarrassed, she covers her mouth with her hand and ducks her head.

"You really don't love the rain, hmm?"

Kara pauses in her work to meet Lena's eyes. Lena feels as though time has slowed, lost again in that deep blue. "I really love that you love it," Kara is saying, her hands for once perfectly still. The words are nothing, an insignificance, small talk between a new barista and her mid-morning regular, and yet the moment lingers heavy between them. And then in an instant Kara turns away again, and with a chuckle she's saying, "But no, I could do without the rain myself. Gosh, all those extra steps when you're leaving the house. Do I need an umbrella? Do I not need an umbrella? Extra pair of socks? Are these pants okay if they get wet? And they will get wet, because that's just the way things seem to go."

"You could try rain boots," Lena suggests.

"That would ruin my whole look," Kara replies, gesturing vaguely to her chinos and her sneakers, or perhaps to the flannel she's wearing tucked in as if it were a button down.

Lena narrowly avoids a second bout of laughter. "Rain boots can be very fashionable," she says, mostly to cover her own amusement.

Kara points an accusing finger. "They cannot, and even I know that. Don't you try to fool me."

"I would never."

"I'm holding you to that." Kara passes the cup of coffee over and then leans across the counter on her elbows, watching as Lena takes the first sip. Her slow smile as Lena hums her approval is as much a reward as the coffee itself. "No bag today," she comments. "You aren't staying?"

God, how Lena wishes she could. She would set up at that empty table against the wall and sip hot coffee and nibble pastries and smile at Kara and tell all the Maxwell Lords of the world to fuck right off. But life as a Luthor is defined by its obligations.

"I'm afraid not. I've got about a dozen things to do back at the office, and my assistant will have my head if I'm not back in time." _It was lovely to see you though,_ she thinks to herself. The words die on her lips.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Kara asks, and perhaps Lena is imagining it, but perhaps there's a hint of something like hope in her expression.

"I'll be here," Lena promises. As if she weren't here every day. As if she could stay away now that she knows Kara will be waiting behind the counter when she arrives.

"Then I'll look forward to it," Kara says, and Lena wonders if she means it.

///

But on Friday, Kara is not at Mountainside.

Lena is tired, bleary eyed from a late night at the office wrestling her schedule back into something resembling sanity. She's downright irritable and, despite her best efforts, it shows. She's finally working her way through the gala arrangements, or at least making an effort to work out what it is she's going to have to take care of and precisely how far she can push back Lillian's arrival, when the two and a half hour mark passes and Jess pokes her head into Lena's office.

"All due respect Miss Luthor, but I think I speak for everyone here when I say that we’d really like you to go and get your morning tea."

Lena thinks of Kara's warm smile, of these deep blue eyes, the lingering brush of long fingers across the back of her hand, and she forgets to be offended by the implications of Jess's comment. Jess hesitates at the door, perhaps expecting a reprimand - not that a reprimanding has ever stopped Jess from making uncomfortably pointed comments about Lena's behavior when it's appropriate - but she slips away when Lena offers none. Lena drums her fingers on the top of her desk, her eyes far away, still half considering the gala and half considering Kara.

But Jess is right. She's snapped at nearly everyone this morning, and while a cup of coffee has never in Lena's experience been enough to override sleep deprivation, Kara's warmth might just do the trick all by itself. She shrugs into her coat and makes her way downstairs, stopping to offer a smile and a word of encouragement to the new hire she's already terrorized this morning, and then she's out into the street.

It's just another day in National City. Crowded and loud, clear and sunny, as cold as it ever gets in this place which Lena is ashamed to find is more than cold enough for her. It's strange to think that she's been gone from Metropolis for so long that she's acclimated to the weather here, that she might be too soft now to take a Metropolis winter in stride. How strange it is how quickly things have changed. How strange it is that in some ways nothing has changed at all.

The usual morning line awaits her at Mountainside and Lena peers around the figures ahead of her, searching for a glimpse of blonde hair. Lexa is here of course, and Nia, whose name Lena knows because she's long since bedazzled her nametag, but there is no sign of Kara.

In fact, there is still no sign of Kara when Lena arrives at the front of the line, and so there is an awkward moment when Lexa greets her with a polite "Good morning, Miss Luthor," and Lena doesn't know how to reply. Should she come back later? Is Kara perhaps on a break? Engaged elsewhere in the coffee shop? Should Lena wait for her?

But before Lena can make any kind of decision, Lexa nods once, slowly, with a knowing smile creeping into the corners of her mouth. "Kara isn't here; she called out sick this morning."

"Oh, I see." Lena coughs to cover the moment of acute disappointment cutting through her chest. How irrational a thing, to feel pain over the absence of someone she doesn't know. And then the moment has passed, and Lena has moved on from disappointment to concern. "It's nothing serious, I hope. Will she be all right?"

Lexa glances over Lena's shoulder. "I'm sure she'll be just fine. A pour over today?"

Behind Lexa, Nia has frozen in her work, and she's half turned towards Lena with her mouth half open as though the words she'd like to say have caught in her throat.

"An earl grey," Lena says. "The usual."

Lexa nods again, that same slow nod, that same growing, infuriating, knowing smile.

Lena sits with her disappointment as she waits for her drink, a familiar interval of four minutes and fifteen seconds punctuated by the sound of Lexa steaming the milk before the tea can quite finish steeping. It's almost funny how the details of the gala, Lillian's impending arrival, the rest of today's docket, they all seem a little heavier and a little more mundane in Kara's absence. Monday seems at once further away than it should - how dare the universe conspire to stretch the hours between Lena and the next chance to catch Kara's eye - and impossibly close. She feels a tiredness deep in her bones that suggests the weekend will be over long before she's recovered, that in fact every weekend will be over, that the wheel of time will turn and turn and turn and Lena will be nothing but achingly tired until the day she dies.

It's all a little dramatic given that all she's lost is a five minute interaction with a barista who is all but a stranger to her, and yet. The drama of it, the absurdity, the internal sneer with which Lena examines herself, none of that makes the feeling any less real. She misses Kara, and that's the end of it. How strange it is that a stranger's presence can become such a precious thing in so short a time.

Nia leans in over the counter, the pins along the front of her apron clicking together as she fixes Lena with a conspiratorial stare. She glances behind her, as if she's concerned that someone might see them talking, and then she speaks so quickly and so quietly that it takes Lena a moment to process what she's said.

"Are you and Kara close?" Nia asks.

Lena hesitates. No, of course they aren't close. It should be an easy thing to admit, and yet Lena feels abruptly put on the spot, as if she has to answer to this person for her concern about Kara's well being. She bristles under Nia's scrutiny and the discomfort of her own shame.

"No," she replies. "I just... I enjoy her company, is all."

Nia opens her mouth to say something, but Lexa is calling her back to the register. She starts to go, turns back to Lena, glances away again, her mouth half open once more.

"Why?" Lena prompts.

"I just-"

"Nia! The line!" Lexa fixes Lena with an apologetic smile. "She's very protective of Kara," she explains as she passes Lena her drink. "Don't mind her."

"I don't mind," Lena says.

But she hesitates on her way out the door and turns back in time to catch Nia watching her go, a frown scrawled across her features, those unspoken words perhaps still caught in her throat, and Lena can't help the nagging feeling that something important should have been said here.

Or perhaps that's anxiety about the gala talking.

The walk back to L-Corp feels altogether too long, and it isn't until Lena is back behind her desk that she realizes she hasn't taken so much as a sip of her drink. She brings it hesitantly to her lips. Earl grey with just a touch of lavender, finished with a splash of milk: not so much as to cover the flavor and carefully steamed so as not to cool the tea prematurely. It's perfect, really. A work of art.

But it isn't what she wants.

///

Lena finds herself outside of Mountainside at closing time, not sure how she came to be there, not certain that it matters. The evening has long since gathered itself and gone, leaving nothing behind but a smudge of dusty blue across the western horizon and a scattering of stars in the east. She lingers outside, her hand on the door handle, frozen in the thought that somehow, impossibly, it feels as though it's going to snow. She can smell the coming storm, can almost taste it in her mouth. And there, in the golden light of the coffee shop, is Kara wiping down the counter, a studious expression on her face, her sleeves rolled up and the customary apron around her waist discarded somewhere behind the bar. The moment stretches long as Lena hovers, caught between the aching nostalgia of an impossible storm and the impossible warmth waiting just on the other side of that glass.

In the end, it isn't much of a choice. She steps through the door, pulling her gloves off as she goes, and when Kara looks up with that warm, confident smile, Lena forgets all about snow and stars and the smell of home. She forgets everything but Kara. Kara, who leans across the counter on her elbows and slowly, ever so slowly, sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, her eyes never leaving Lena's for an instant.

Lena hesitates just inside. She's alone with Kara, but all around them are the traces of others: coffee mugs still steaming on the tables, a book still open here, a laptop there, as though this were a quietly busy place just a moment ago and everyone else has simply stepped away. The music is playing low, something familiar that Lena can't quite identify.

"Where is everyone?" She asks.

"It's late," Kara replies, as if that were enough of an explanation. "Would you like a drink?"

Lena starts to answer that a cup of coffee at this hour - whichever hour this might be - would likely propel her into a jittery wakefulness which could last all the way until dawn, but Kara is standing behind the bar holding a bottle of wine, and that's an indulgence Lena won't turn down at any time of day.

"Drinking on the job?" She muses.

"I won't tell if you won't," Kara replies. "Care to join me?" And she opens the half door to the prep area and stands aside for Lena to pass. It's a small space, tiled floors and open shelves, cramped with tools and product, towels and old books, a bowl of brightly colored enamel pins which Lena is almost sure she recognizes, though she can't say from where. Kara pours her a glass of red, and they lean together against the counter, shoulder to shoulder. Outside, the snow is beginning to fall thick and fast.

Lena frowns. "I didn't think it ever snowed in National City," she says.

"It doesn't; you're just missing home."

"How could you know that?"

"I asked Rao what you needed. I asked him to help me give it to you."

"Rao?"

Kara ignores the question. She reaches around Lena to put her glass down, pressing into her space, a hand now on either side of her as she meets her eyes with an intensity that raises the hair on the back of Lena's neck.

"Do you know what else he told me you needed?" Kara asks.

Lena doesn't have an answer to that. She's distracted by the way Kara's eyes linger on her mouth, by the fact that they're so close that it would take nothing more than a deep breath to close the space between them, and by the time she finds the wherewithal to make a coy reply Kara is kissing her and all her clever words are forgotten. The first kiss is soft and slow. Kara reaches up to cup Lena's face, strokes a thumb across her jaw and then presses her tongue into the seam of her lips. Lena gives way in an instant, and as Kara licks into her mouth she lets out a soft moan and wraps her free arm around Kara's waist to bring her closer, closer. When Kara pulls away at last, Lena almost stumbles forward chasing the contact.

"I don't know who Rao is," she breathes, "But he gives excellent advice."

"My God," Kara says with a breathy laugh. She presses close again, her mouth against Lena's ear, and whispers, "This isn't what he said you needed. Let me show you." She pries the wine glass from Lena's fingers, her tongue teasing at Lena's ear as she guides her hand to the hard length hidden against her thigh.

Lena's mouth goes dry. "Are you always packing, or is there a special occasion?" She wants to sound confident, sarcastic, coy, but her voice shakes as Kara guides her hand to her belt buckle and presses an open mouthed kiss to the pulse point below her jaw.

"Only when I'm expecting someone who can take it," she murmurs.

God, Lena has always thought of herself as a top, comfortably in control in any situation, but the thought of letting Kara pin her to the wall and fuck her right here until she forgets her name is enough to make her reconsider. Her fingers tremble as she undoes Kara's belt, as she works Kara's pants down over her hips to reveal a pair of star spangled boy shorts which at any other time would absolutely have earned a wry comment from Lena. Who wears star spangled boy shorts, honestly? But Lena's attention is held by what's underneath, even when Kara pulls her in for another kiss, tongue sliding into her mouth, teeth nipping at her bottom lip until Lena is whimpering into her.

"Get on your knees," Kara whispers.

Oh. Not against the wall, then. Lena does as she's told, her eyes lingering on Kara's strap as Kara reaches down to tangle a firm hand in the hair on the back of her head. Lena has the vague thought that this is probably the first time a born Luthor has ever been on their knees in front of anyone, and then Kara is pulling on her hair to tilt her head back.

"Open your mouth," she orders.

Lena hardly has her lips parted before Kara is slipping the tip of her strap between them. Lena runs her tongue over it, willing herself to open wider as Kara eases into her throat. For a moment she doesn't know what to do with her hands - she's never in her life been the passive recipient of anything, let alone someone's strap into her mouth - but she finds purchase on Kara's hips as Kara begins to roll them, pressing further into Lena with every thrust until Lena is twisting a little in her grip for a better angle to take more, more, more. Only when she has all of Kara's strap worked into her throat does she look up at Kara's face. Kara looks back at her, her expression impassive, her eyes dark.

Lena has the embarrassing thought that she might come just like this, Kara's strap so far down her throat that she can't breathe, those hips rolling under her hands, the floor damp through the knees of her pants, strong fingers buried so tight in her hair that it hurts, and Lena would feel something akin to shame but fuck it feels so damn good to be used that shame isn't even in the picture. The heat pooling between her legs is a strange contrast to the cold of the tile against her legs and Lena can hardly move and God she doesn't want to.

When Kara pulls the strap from her mouth, she whimpers. She whimpers again when Kara pulls her up by the hair until she's on her feet, and for a moment she thinks Kara is going to kiss her but the seconds stretch longer and longer until she reaches out and traces gentle fingers over her face instead, tracing her cheekbones and the line of her jaw, smearing what's left of her lipstick, working a thumb between her teeth and watching with dark eyes as Lena flicks her tongue over it.

"So," Kara says, almost conversational in her nonchalance, "Now that you know how big it really is, you can tell me if you really want it."

As if there is any universe in which Lena doesn't want this. "Yes," she breathes.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I want it," Lena says. She feels the blush creeping into her cheeks. It's one thing to want Kara; it's another to say it out loud. "Yes, I want you," she says, in case it isn't clear, in case Kara wants more.

But she must have said enough, because Kara's neutral expression falters and a smile breaks through. "Turn around then," Kara tells her, "I need you to watch the door for me, babe. Make sure nobody's coming."

Lena almost hesitates. She's forgotten that Mountainside is in fact still open, that she isn’t alone with Kara, not really, and for a disorienting moment she isn't sure how long she's been here or for how long she's been letting Kara have her way. But Kara's fingers are already deftly undoing Lena's buttons, and Lena plants her hands on the counter and bites her lip as she feels those fingers slide under the hem of her underpants.

Which is when she hears Nia's voice calling for Kara from somewhere outside.

Lena freezes. Kara doesn't seem to have heard it; she's working Lena's panties down with one hand and pushing Lena with the other until she's bent over the counter. Lena's eyes fall on an open book on the table by the window, _A Gentleman In Moscow_ , and there was something about it that Lena can almost remember... but it's all forgotten as she shivers, exposed, and then shivers again when Kara runs two fingers through her folds to gather the wetness there.

"Guess I don't have to ask you if you're ready," Kara comments.

Lena opens her mouth, mind scrambling for an adequately sarcastic reply, but Kara chooses that moment to press into her with the strap and she moans instead. Her hands flex against the counter because God, yes, she knew how big it really was, but she was absolutely not prepared. She's squirming again, seeking the best angle, trying to take more of Kara even as Kara bottoms out inside of her. Kara settles into a pace that promises to take Lena over the edge so quickly that visitors are unlikely to be a problem. She isn't even sure how she's still standing her legs are shaking so badly, and as if Kara has read her mind she grips Lena's hip with a possessiveness that draws another moan from her throat.

Nia appears so abruptly that Lena almost cries out. She hasn't come through the door or wandered out from the back; she's simply apparated into space directly in front of Lena, and for a moment Lena is caught, the pleasure building between her hips, and Nia's deep brown eyes staring into hers, and this is far too intimate a moment and Lena is so goddamn uncomfortable but Kara somehow doesn't seem to have realized that anything is wrong and-

Nia seizes Lena by the wrists, the discomfort of the encounter wiped from her face, an urgency in her expression that settles in Lena's gut even before those words, ever caught in Nia’s throat, finally break free.

"You're running out of time," she says.

Lena wakes with a start, scrambling for an alarm that hasn't even gone off yet, damp with sweat and arousal and absolutely certain she is going to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to callmeeighttails, tewaboo, and kinglunaris, all of whom helped make sure this was mostly clear of errors and who told me everything I needed to know about straps. I am not at all qualified to write smut, but I tried. As always, find me on Tumblr at Oreoambitions for more shenanigans :)


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